Page 25 of Owning the Prez’s Ol' Lady

“Say something,” I begged. My fingers dug into his shirt, clutching him, forcing him to look into my eyes—those hollowed brown pools filled with a murderous past.

Then he opened his mouth, saying three words that caused a catastrophic cyclone of guilt to swarm around me.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Your past doesn’t change that for me. Not a single thing you said scared me, Shasta.” He nuzzled my cheek, creating havoc... confusion... and comfort to burn endlessly inside of me. “The only thing that scares me, is the thought of losing you forever.”

And before I could protest, Joe kissed me again, laying a silent claim on me that I wasn’t ready for.

Chapter Eighteen

Snyder

There was a strange breeze blowing through the trees, like a humming, or a silent song that followed me as I rode down the desolate road leading out of Austin. I shouldn’t be out riding alone, but I couldn’t help myself, I needed to get out of the clubhouse. Everything there reminded me of Shasta, and it was killing me inside.

For almost four months, I’ve done nothing but silently pine for her, wishing I could just jump on my bike and go searching for her like my heart wanted to.

Shasta was my fucking whole world, and without her, it was like a tornado of chaos was circling around me.

Even with Sabbath gone, the club was still falling into its old habits. We had to figure out a way to make money without going back to dealing drugs, or guns, or anything else nefarious that we shouldn’t be dealing in.

You can’t change a leopard’s spots, and it looked like you couldn’t change a Lewd Outlaw’s either.

My bike swerved into the other lane, and I almost ate shit all over the asphalt.

“Fuck,” I growled, feeling like a failure all over again. “I need to pull my fucking head out of my ass before I get myself killed.”

But the only way to do that was to mend my broken heart. Sure, I could get my dick wet in some random chick, sufficing the silent carnal urges that came with being a man, but then what? I’d still be missing Shasta. I’d still be a lovesick fool, missing the only woman who could turn my head and make my heart sing at the same time.

I was no use to my club in this state of mind. My bike came to a stop just outside the boundary that separated Austin from the next town over. Straddling it, I warred with my own inner demons, wondering what would happen if I just kept on riding, stopping in every fucking town until I found that sexy needle in this sea of haystacks that surrounded me.

I could still feel her soft skin on the tips of my fingers, and the whisper of her lips as her memories gave me ghostly kisses that wouldn’t leave me.

It’d be so easy.

I could lose myself on the road. A rogue biker looking for the woman who left him breathless and gave him a fucking purpose.

The president patch on my chest felt like a million bowling balls, or a giant grand piano dangling from my chest. All the responsibility that came from running the club was weighing me down. My men were depending on me to lead them... but I was so wrapped up in myself that I felt useless and incapable of giving them the leadership they needed. Why did they choose me?

I’m just going to let them all down. Just like I let her down. She didn’t want to belong to the whole club. She just wanted to be loved, truly, utterly, and deeply.

Fuck, why couldn’t I give her what she needed, and look every one of those motherfuckers in the face and tell them that she was mine—that the only one who could ever own her heart was me?

It was like a part of me could feel her slipping away, almost as if I could sense her falling for someone else... someone better... someone who would put her first.

But that too was a lie.

I treasured her like a forsaken jewel, one that had to be put on display and worshiped accordingly. In my heart, Shasta came before everything, even the brothers of my club. That’s what made me a shitty president... my heart belonged to someone else, and wasn’t in the club. At least not currently.

My phone rang, breaking me from the inner turmoil going on in my head. It was Priest.

“What’s up, man?”

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice calm and almost soothing.

“Straddling the boundary between Austin and Driftwood, debating on whether a wild goose chase is a good idea, or the ramblings of a man who has loved and lost everything.”

Priest remained silent, then he cleared his throat.

“Can you meet me at the address I just texted you?”

---